


an appreciation for the arts

by wvlfqveen



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, art student clary because what else could she be, everyone is gay deal with it, max is alive and im in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7851973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wvlfqveen/pseuds/wvlfqveen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an old man by the entrance of the collection looking intently at one of Klimt’s sketches -Clary couldn’t recognize it from this angle-, and ….</p><p>There was also the most beautiful person she had ever seen, looking at a painting Clary did recognize; Hope II.</p><p>Clary’s fingers itched. She looked down at her new, empty page, then up at the person, and got to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an appreciation for the arts

**Author's Note:**

> hello lovelies!!! i found this au (person a sees person b at art museum, sketches them, etc) while browsing tumblr and i was like sHIT CLIZZY so. here we are
> 
> i love girls, and girls who love girls and i want them to be happy
> 
> disclaimer: i know nothing about nyc, studying art, or art itself
> 
> enjoy!

Finals season was getting to Clary.

Okay, she wasn’t practically buried in her books like Maia, who was studying psychology, was. Art wasn’t as demanding as other areas of study that way. But her hand was cramping up everyday and if her metabolism had the speed of a regular human metabolism she would have probably gained 15 pounds from all the bagels and coffee she was consuming to stay alive. As it was, the only side effect her eating habits had was to make her twitchy and restless. A lot of pacing, between ripping her sketches apart, was involved.

So Maia had lifted her head from her book, glared at her, and then shoved her out the door with her sketchpad and an order to “go clear her head and come back when she was less likely to piss her off”. And there was only one place where she could go clear her head with a sketchpad in her hand.

The art museum.

She had considered _Java Jones_ and even the park at first, but there was a chance someone she knew could see her and distract her and -despite Maia’s order- she really needed to recreate a painting, and quickly.

The museum was thankfully half-empty today, free of elementary classes and college groups, so Clary was free to roam around. She had a specific painting in mind, but she wanted to check out the Klimt collection; one of her mother’s favorite artists. Maybe it would help clear her head, like Maia had told her to do.

The MoMA collection wasn’t incredibly big and didn’t attract much attention, so she wasn’t surprised when she saw the area empty. She sat down on a bench on the side of the room and inhaled deeply. This was her place. She bent her head and started sketching.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she lifted her head. She had filled a page, and had been ripping it and putting it in her bag exasperatedly when she lifted her head and realized she wasn’t alone.

There was an old man by the entrance of the collection looking intently at one of Klimt’s sketches -Clary couldn’t recognize it from this angle-, and...

There was also the most beautiful person she had ever seen, looking at a painting Clary _did_ recognize; _Hope II._

They had long, black hair that fell in waves down their back, and were wearing a long, flowy, black skirt with a white blouse that left their shoulders bare. They weren’t facing her, so she couldn’t really see their face, but no one could look that good from the side. It just wasn’t allowed.

Clary’s fingers itched. She looked down at her new, empty page, then up at the person, and got to work.

*

“Holy shit, is that me?” a voice above her asked.

Clary jumped. She had been so completely immersed in her sketch that she hadn’t realized the person had moved closer to her. She swallowed, then blushed. They were truly beautiful, with big, stunning brown eyes and one of the brightest smiles she had ever seen.

She scrambled to get up. She was shorter than them, she noted faintly. “I’m so so sorry, this is so awkward and creepy, I just saw you staring at the painting and got to work I didn’t even realize what I was d-”

The person stopped her with a laugh. “Hey, relax, it’s awesome. Can I see it?”

Clary blushed even harder, but complied, handing them the sketchpad. They took it gingerly, as if they could break it if they touched it wrong, and stared down at the sketch of them that- facing them from up close now- wasn’t even that good. It did nothing to capture how truly beautiful they were.

“It’s amazing,” they breathed, handing the sketchpad back to her. Clary took it and shoved it in her bag hastily. The person smiled and offered their hand for a shake. Clary shook it and lingered for way too long, then pulled back.

“I’m Isabelle,” the other person said. “People usually call me Izzy.”

Isabelle. Fitting. “I’m Clary, she/her pronouns,” she said, the pronoun thing coming naturally to her from having non-binary friends at art school, and Magnus, her fashion design instructor, and her mom’s neighbour. “Well, Clarissa, but only my mom calls me that when she’s angry.”

Isabelle -Izzy- laughed. “The full name thing is a mom thing, then. And my pronouns are she/her, too.”

“Totally,” Clary agreed, relieved Izzy hadn’t found the pronoun thing weird. Beautiful or not, she wouldn’t have been able to handle it if she was transphobic, or anything like that.

“So, do you usually hang out here and draw unsuspecting people or do you actually draw other things, too?,” Izzy teased. Clary’s cheeks turned bright red again.

“This was only one time,” she grumbled. “I’m an art student. I draw...stuff.”

Izzy smiled. Clary’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Could I buy you a coffee and persuade you to show me some of it?”

Clary blinked. Holy shit. “Yes, that would be- that would be great.”

Izzy’s smile widened. She put her hand on her elbow and steered her towards the exit. Clary’s heart thumped in her chest. “Excellent. It’s a date.”

A date, Clary thought half-hysterically.

Maia and Simon were going to _freak_ .  


* * *

 They ended up at a coffee shop close to the MoMa, a tiny indie thing that reminded Clary vividly of days spent with Simon bent over comic books at _Java Jones_. Clary told Izzy as much.

“Who’s Simon?,” Izzy asked curiously.

“My best friend since childhood,” Clary explained.

“Like a Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes kind of thing?,” Izzy asked, looking amused. Clary snorted in approval at the comparison, however off-base.

“No, they’re gay for each other. Simon and I are also gay, but separately.”

Izzy laughed. It sounded like a lullaby.

“Didn’t you have a childhood best friend?,” Clary asked curiously as they sat down. She pulled the little menu card towards her automatically.

“Hm, not really,” Izzy started thoughtfully. “I was homeschooled, so not many opportunities for friends. I do have three brothers, though, so I was okay. When we weren’t pulling each other’s hair that is.”

“Three brothers, huh? Wow, big family.”

“Oh yea, we are. One of my brothers is a foster child, though,” Izzy explained. She was looking through her phone.

“Here,” she said, showing a picture to her. It was her, with three boys, two of them around their age, and one at least five years younger. They were all stunning.

“The young one is Max. He’s in grade 8, right now. The one with the black hair is my twin, Alec. And the blond is Jace, my foster brother.”

Even before she had pointed him out, Clary had suspected he was the one not related to them. He had blond hair and light amber eyes, and his features -the angles, the set of his eyes- reminded her of a lion. Alec and Max had rounder, softer features, and different colouring.

“You are a beautiful family,” Clary complimented.

“Thanks,” Izzy said. They both looked up as a waitress with multiple tattoos and a nose ring that connected to her ear with a chain came up to them. Manhattan was an amazing place.

They both ordered automatically, then Izzy turned to her again. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have a brother, but I rarely see him. Our parents have been divorced since my birth basically. My dad got my brother, mom got me. I don’t really get along with Dad’s side anyway. I’m an agnostic lesbian that likes to do art and they are all religious and very much not gay, so.”

“I understand,” Izzy said. “My parents didn’t take it that well when all three of us -that is Alec, Jace, and I, came out as gay, pan and bi respectively. Man, that night was wild, I’m telling you.”

“I can imagine,” Clary said, smiling kindly. Izzy smiled back, then backed away- Clary didn’t even realize they had been leaning towards each other- to let the waitress set down their orders. She left before they could say thank you.

“So,” Izzy started, taking a sip of her drink. A smile was playing around her mouth. “About this art things of yours…”

Clary turned bright red.

This was going to be an embarrassing date.

* * *

Clary waltzed in _Java Jones_ about two hours later, head in the clouds and a new number in her phone. Life was beautiful. The sun was shining, puppies were still being born, and Izzy liked her enough to give her her number.

She waved around the table at Simon, Maia, Magnus and Raphael, Simon's current crush and long-time best friend of Magnus, then flopped down in the chair Maia had automatically pulled out for her beside her. She was, for once, not buried in a textbook.

“Earth to biscuit,” Magnus said as a greeting. Clary blinked at them.

“Hi,” she said, smiling. Maia and Simon exchanged a look.

Simon turned to her. “So…..the art was...good?”

“It was great,” Clary said. “I went on a date.”

There was a beat of silence around the table, then everyone started talking at once.

“A date?” (Raphael)

“With who?” (Simon)

“Do we know them?” (Maia)

“I didn’t even know you went on dates.” (Raphael)

“With that outfit?” (Magnus)

She blinked at them, scowled at Magnus, then put her hands up to demand silence. They quieted down.

“Yes a date, with a girl you don’t know, she’s beautiful, I haven’t gone on dates in a while, and yes with this outfit because I wasn’t exactly planning on meeting anyone,” she answered. Nobody talked. “Happy?”

“What’s her name?,” Maia asked.

“Isabelle. Izzy. She’s a dance major, a model, and a martial arts instructor, and she’s super cool and beautiful and bisexual, and she gave me her number,” she said, breathless. She finished and sighed.

“Breathe, gaylord,” Magnus said. She stuck her tongue out at them.

“Are you going out with her again?,” Simon asked.

“Yes, this Friday. She’s taking me to a club a friend of her owns.”

“A club?,” Simon asked, disbelieving.

“Wait, is it a gay club? What’s it called?,” Magnus asked, curious.

“ _Pande-Pandemonium_? Yeah, _Pandemonium_.”

Magnus’ curious expression was replaced by one of disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Clary frowned, not understanding. “No..?”

“Clary, _I’m_ the owner of _Pandemonium_. Are you talking about Izzy Lightwood?”

“How did you- oh my God, Alec is your boyfriend,” Clary said, slapping her forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him in the picture Izzy showed me.”

“Clarissa Fray, did you really just go out with _Izzy Lightwood_?,” Maia said in awe. “She’s like, a goddess, and totally unattainable.”

Clary sighed, resting her chin on her arms on the table. “I wanna have her adopted babies.”

Maia patted her on the back consolingly. Friday was a long time away. Months, really.

But, Clary thought, feeling the number sear through her phone and her pocket, she could probably wait it out until then, somehow. She grinned.


End file.
